Chapter Twenty-Two:

  First off, the suit itched.

  Secondly, Alinyaln’s palms were sweating at the idea of being around so many nobles. He had never really gotten along with some of the nobility that Tyrnarm had introduced him to, save for the old King and Queen of Retin, Jurgei Gryna and Sinisia Gryna. I hope Yanuan found you both a good place to rest, Alinyaln prayed quietly as the line leading into the party shuffled forward. King and Queen Gryna had, interestingly, been loyal to Yanuan as their favored Triplet due to the metals that had been wrought from their lands. Had that changed once the oceans swallowed Retin? Close to twenty years had passed since that fateful day of the oceans raging across Wrinthim, swelling to the point of swallowing up some of the smaller land masses across the world, until the waters receded and it was spread that Retin was simply gone.

  That was how he had heard it explained, at least, the embellished words traveling from mouth to mouth as it was passed around the world. He himself couldn’t remember that day in specific, not having been notable enough for him to even consider remembering.

  “You’re drifting.” Syrin said, nudging Alinyaln in the side. “Where do you keep sailing off to in that empty head of yours?”

  Alinyaln smiled, looking down at Syrin. She was skirting Siston traditions with her dress, the deep purple not quite pairing with Alinyaln’s own blood red suit, but she had chosen it to accentuate her blue skin, revealing it to the world. Syrin looked gorgeous. “Just trying to focus on something that’s not my suit scratching me.” He said, peeling his eyes away from her.

  His suit was of a dark red color, with white frills on the sleeves and silver buttons that were just a hair too tight on his chest, as opposed to the new Captain’s jacket he had purchased in the same color that had a far looser fit. Alinyaln could have removed the pistols underneath, but he wasn’t sure when he would need them. They didn’t stand out too much against the obscene amount of fabric that was placed at the chest of his suit jacket, at any rate.

  Despite the extravagance of their outfits, they were far more subdued than the rest of the nobility waiting for entrance into the Myailin home, the family actually having a surname in Siston due to their high notoriety. Some of the women had painstakingly woven flowers that matched the colors of their dresses into their hair, the men with tall scaled hats that reflected the limelight that was directed at the tall building. If the garish sight of those hats weren’t enough, Syrin had forced Alinyaln to wear his newly acquired tricorn hat and sullied it with the addition of a stark red feather, taller than Alinyaln’s arm, attached at the rim.

  And the smells. The smells were a disgusting mix of everything that could have possibly smelled good in the world; trees, flowers, fruits, spices, even a few types of booze all mingled together and created the worst—

  “Lyn.” Syrin nudged him again.

  “The perfumes.” He shook his head. “They’re revolting all mixed together like this.”

  “You should have put on that cologne I gave you.” Syrin said with a shrug.

  Alinyaln shook his head. “Dirt isn’t a cologne.”

  “It’s not dirt, it’s Stony Travels. It’s from Arsin.” Syrin said as if that made it all better.

  “It’s dirt scented water.”

  The couple in front of them, wearing very…. Unique shades of yellow, turned to glance at Alinyaln and Syrin. Their eyes were curious as they looked Syrin and Alinyaln up and down. “What?” Alinyaln asked, tilting his head.

  The man sneered, then they turned back around.

  “Play nice.” Syrin chided as the line shuffled forward again.

  “That wasn’t nice?”

  “Too confrontational.” Syrin said with a shake of her head. “These are nobles, love, not sailors.”

  “Oh.” Alinyaln inhaled deeply.. “This is going to be a long night.”

  “Easy for you to say.” A voice came from Alinyaln’s other side. He turned to see Ninia standing there, fidgeting with her outfit. The bright pink dress was short on her, reaching just below her knees which would have been horribly immodest in some parts of the world. The pattern of fabric on the dress made it look far more modest than what Syrin was wearing, more like that of a serving girl. Which was accented by Ninia’s lack of makeup, her hair straight down her back. She looked pretty, dressed up as she was, though she looked very uncomfortable, shuffling from side to side and tugging at various parts of the garment.

  “I’m sorry, lass.” Alinyaln said and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Why did it have to be me?” She asked, looking down at herself. “I feel ridiculous. You couldn’t get Timphinny or Higlim do it?”

  Alinyaln shook his head. “Higlim’s too old, he would stand out like a sore thumb.” To which Ninia then picked at a piece of her dress as if to make a point. “Phinny would be a detriment to our goal, he’s on the older side as well and I don’t think you’d be able to clean the booze smell off of him in time.”

  Ninia looked down the line. “It doesn’t look like many of the other couples here have anyone else with them.”

  Syrin pointed down toward the side of the building. “The servants of the other couples went that way,” She explained. “The workers for the nobles that attend these parties regularly are usually allowed in, no questions asked. As we’re new here…” She let the statement hang as the line shuffled forward again. What was taking so long?

  The lass tugged at part of her dress again, and Alinyaln could see the imprint of where her wrist sheath was typically worn, the skin pale where the leather would sit. It wasn’t recognizable as a sheath, not with those strange straps, but it would make her more memorable. Not as memorable as showing up with a blue woman and a girl wearing a burning pink dress, he thought. “You have my permission to burn that dress afterwards, lass.”

  Ninia looked up at him, hesitated, then nodded once. In a moment of remembered decorum she stood up straight again, affecting the air of a girl born for taking care of the nobility. Alinyaln knew little of what Higlim had done to teach the girl, but hopefully it would be enough to maintain appearances.

  Then, again, the line shuffled forward. “What in tarnation are they doing up there?” Alinyaln grumbled under his breath.

  “Lord Synthar Myailin is supposedly fond of greeting all of the attendees to his parties personally.” Syrin explained.

  “How do you know that?” Ninia asked the woman.

  “I asked around, Hinina.” Syrin said with a small laugh that caught the attention of the rude couple in front of them again.

  “Just as I thought, you are new here.” The woman said, her dress a pale yellow, almost white in the darkening light of the day. “Please excuse my husband’s attitude earlier.” Her voice was so lofty that Alinyaln could almost hear the Gins tumbling around in her mouth. “Where is it you two—” She cut off, noticing Ninia, “You three—Are from?”

  “Arsin.” Alinyaln said with a nod that could resemble a bow. “On a little vacation.” The husband began to glare at Alinyaln again. Pisswearing bastard, he thought to himself, then it dawned on him that the man may just have a permanent scowl on his face.

  “An Arsin woman who got on the bad side of a Cloud Crafter?” The man said derisively, his mustache was long, but didn’t droop down as would have been reasonable, no he had styled his facial hair back and around his head, lightening up his dark hair with the silver of the mustache. “I’d hardly think those hermits would even have Cloud Crafters.”

  “Quiet, Phnan,” The woman said, swatting her husband on the arm. “No reason to be rude to the lovely lady.” Alinyaln smiled at the small conflict, but he disguised it with a scratch of his lip.

  “I wasn’t being rude!” The man defended.

  “You were, in fact.” Alinyaln said, stepping up closer to the man. He knew that Syrin wouldn’t have been offended by the man’s comment, her skin was far too thick to let that bother her, but what little he knew about Arsin men told him that such an insult shouldn’t be taken lightly.

  The man, Phnan, raised his eyebrow looking up at Alinyaln who stood more than half a head taller than himself. “Am I supposed to be intimidated by you?” He asked, the sneer returning in full force. “I’ll have you know I am the owner of the largest cruise ship company in the world!”

  Alinyaln smiled in a willfully sinister way at the man. “I know of your cruise ships, Phnan, the soulless vessels that have had trouble keeping their business since even I was a boy.” He poked the man in his portly belly. “But that doesn’t mean much after I’ve rammed a knife into your gullet and torn you open like a fish.” Alinyaln could even feel his face turn red as he talked more, old emotions rising within him.

  “Ah, I—I, yes, terribly sorry.” The man said, growing pale at the outburst. He cowered back, hiding behind his wife.

  “I’m so sorry for Phnan,” The gaunt faced wife said. She held her hand out to Syrin, who took it warmly. “I’m Ytil.”

  “Rebiska,” Syrin said, using the name that they had planned for her in advance, foreign enough to keep their cover, but not too extreme to be memorable. “Reb for short.”

  “Rebiska, dear, would the two of you like to dine with us during the party?” Ytil asked imploringly. “It’s the least I can do for my husband’s foul behavior.”

  Syrin glanced up at Alinyaln, who nodded. “So long as tongues can be kept in check, we would be delighted.”

  “I feel like that should go both ways.” Phnan said, back turned from them as everyone shuffled forward another foot.

  “He’ll behave himself, right, Crinst?” Syrin prompted Alinyaln, who desperately tried to make sure the sound of his awful name didn’t show as distaste on his face. Syrin had insisted it matched with her own false name of Rebiska, though he couldn’t understand how names that didn’t rhyme could even match.

  “Yes, dear.” Alinyaln said with his best impression of nobility.

  *

  The remaining time they had to wait left Ninia feeling miserable. As the “servant” of Alinyaln and Syrin, she had felt excluded in the conversations between them and the older couple who were in front of them. Ninia wasn’t supposed to talk, as Ytil and Phnan were meant to be so far above her in social structure as to hold an entire kingdom.

  As a silver lining, this was only for the night, one single miserable night wearing an uncomfortable dress and having old men leer at her. But for the other servants, of which she was able to see quite a few inside in their designated positions, this was likely an everyday occurrence for them. Well, perhaps not the party. Those were likely a little less frequent.

  There weren’t any complications with getting into the party itself, the man at the door was an opulent figure with a mane of long gray hair, his wide build made him appear massive alongside his height, being even taller than Captain Alinyaln. This man, Syrin had explained, was Lord Synthar. He seemed a friendly enough fellow, as he clapped Alinyaln on the back and kissed Syrin’s hand in a formal bow. To Ninia’s surprise, he hadn’t mentioned the woman's… abnormal complexion. In fact, he didn’t seem to even notice that the gorgeous woman he was greeting had anything different about her at all.

  “And where are you from, Sir Crinst?” Lord Synthar asked, his deep voice booming in Ninia’s chest.

  “We came from the Arsin region.” Alinyaln explained with a nod.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Awfully far for a couple of landwalkers! But, all are welcomed here.” Lord Synthar said with a wide smile, showing immaculate teeth. He turned to the room and bellowed, “Lord Crinst and Lady Rebiska of Arsin!” There was polite clapping as the people inside of the building, and a few outside, acknowledged the announcement. Part of Ninia was surprised at the fact they hadn’t been required to show proof. “Very well, in you go, enjoy yourselves!” He said jovially. “Perhaps we can talk again later?”

  “Oh, that would be lovely.” Syrin said with a formal curtsy, dress frilling slightly. Ninia couldn’t help but notice a rippling effect when she did the motion, one that wasn’t there before, as if water was just beneath the surface of the dress.

  The older couple that had been talking to Alinyaln and Syrin earlier had disappeared, but before they had greeted Lord Synthar they had promised to meet back up during dinnertime. Not that Ninia would have been able to find them, as the hall was flooded with partygoers. Couples in their couplets of colors, drifting from one group to the next in a mesmerizing display. Now Ninia understood the tradition of groups wearing distinct colors, the absolute vibrancy was beautiful to her.

  The room they were in was surrounded by a tall upper floor that had an opening downward, allowing those up on top to see the entryway. A massive chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling here, glittering as hundreds of candles flickered with the draft. On either side of the room were two more massive gathering rooms, the one on the left seemed to have tables set up so it was less crowded.

  Syrin waved for Ninia to come closer. “Yes, my lady?” Ninia asked in the proper way, giving a small bow to her “mistress.”

  “We won’t need you for a while, Ninia.” Syrin said with an apologetic smile. “Did you look at the back of the room?”

  Ninia glanced back and saw a darkened area where dozens of figures stood quietly, watching out toward the party. “The help?”

  Syrin nodded. “Go on over there and just watch for us. If we move to a different room, follow, but stay to the back.”

  “In… the dark.”

  “I know it’s droll, lass.” Alinyaln said quietly to her. “But it’s how we’ll keep cover.”

  “If we need to talk to you, we’ll give you a wave.” Syrin said with a nod. “In the meantime, you can try to talk to some of the other… help. See if they know anything about these missing nobles.”

  “And if I don’t learn much?” Ninia asked.

  “Then I think you can find another way to occupy your time.” Syrin said with a wink. “See that girl there in the brown?” Ninia looked over and saw a girl with long brown hair, far more lovely a shade than her dress. “She’s been watching you since we walked in.” Syrin continued. “Maybe try and make a friend?”

  “I—I can’t just do that!” Ninia exclaimed, but then blushed as she remembered herself and coughed. “I can’t—”

  “She’s cute, lass.” Alinyaln said with a nod. “It’ll be good for you. At the very least you should talk to someone your own age.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “That’s an order, lass. At least make small talk with her.” Alinyaln prodded, eyes kind.

  “But—” The argument died on Ninia’s lips. “Aye, Captain.” She said quietly, casting her eyes downward as if she had been reprimanded, but it was moreso to disguise the use of Alinyaln’s title.

  Ninia made her way to the back of the pavilion, and it was only there that she understood the true grandeur of the manor. The servant’s area was dark, poorly lit, the varnish on the floor having been worn off decades ago leaving a dull sheen to the wood from the feet of those unworthy to tread upon the shiny floors of the rest of the mansion. Candles sat in sconces along the walls, but these were barely enough to illuminate the area, much less give some comfort to those within.

  There was food set out for the help, Ninia made her way over to the table and inspected the offerings. Hunks of meat with no spices or sauce, bread, some various cheeses which Ninia couldn’t recognize. A banquet for the poor.

  Servants for the house were wandering the floor in suits of gray, cleaning up after errant spills by the guests and seeing to their needs, almost ensuring that the use of a personal servant was unnecessary at this party, though they were still allowed. Some servants also carried large platters of food filled with various vittles for the gossiping gentry, sating their hunger before their opulent dinners. And of course, there couldn’t be food without the accompanying drink. The amber color that sloshed in the majority of the glassware cups, each with short stems, told Ninia that it was alcohol of some sort, likely rum, but it could have been whisky. Not in that quantity, Ninia thought to herself. Whiskey, she’d been told, was a sipping drink. Rum was a drinking drink.

  Her stomach began to growl, and she tried a cube of one of the strange cheeses, eating it as properly as she could by covering her mouth with her opposite hand. It tasted almost tart, and it squelched in her mouth as she chewed.

  “That’s bread cheese.” A soft voice said to Ninia, causing her to spin around, hand going to her wrist where—no, she didn’t have the sheath on her wrist at the moment, the weapon concealed against her thigh where the leather clasp kept pinching her. But she didn’t need it as the person who had spoken was the brown haired girl that Syrin had pointed out to her. Young, likely a year younger than Ninia, but she had large brown eyes and a curl to her lips that Ninia appreciated.

  “Um… Hello.” Ninia said, her wit sharpening as the words flowed from her mouth. “What were you saying?”

  “Bread cheese.” The girl said, grabbing a cube of the cheese which in the darkness looked pale white, and spread it with her fingers onto a sliver of bread from the next plate. The cheese spread easily. “That’s how you do it.”

  Ninia repeated what the girl did, the cheese was an unpleasant texture on her fingers, but she then took a bite of the bread and gave it a considering grunt. The bread mellowed out the tartness of the cheese, and somehow made it easier to actually taste. It still wasn’t something Ninia would consider good by any means, but it was edible.

  “You were with the pretty couple.” The girl said after she finished her bread. “The one my mistress was talking to outside.”

  Ninia raised her eyebrows, then looked over at Alinyaln and Syrin, the two of them making their way through the party talking to couples as they passed. Syrin hung on his arm, and Alinyaln stood there with a confidence only granted by being with the most attractive woman at the party. Seeing them in this setting, Ninia could admit they were a beautiful couple, even with Syrin’s blue skin and Alinyaln’s scar.

  “I am, yes.” Ninia responded, then glanced the girl up and down, taking in her brown dress. Brown… Not really a good color, but could it be a shade of yellow? “Are you with the Lady Ytil?”

  “I am.” The girl said, then gave Ninia what could be considered a bow, but not formally. “Call me Linli.”

  Ninia gasped slightly. She couldn’t tell from the girl’s features as most people were pretty similar, but that was a Rythmin name. The darkness of the room mixed with the deep brown of her eyes made it impossible to determine whether or not she had the catlike eyes native to Rythmar. “Ninia.” She said, then shook her head. “No, I’m Ninia, sorry. I’m a bit nervous.” Then she returned the girl’s half curtsy.

  Linli’s head snapped around and she stared intently out into the crowd. Ninia turned as well and saw the woman, Ytil, giving a strange hand signal in Linli’s direction, first two fingers together with the rest of her hand spread out, as if in a wave.

  In a moment, Linli was gone, making her way deftly through the groups of nobles as if she were the wind on the sea. She spoke with Ytil for what seemed like a fraction of a second, then was off to catch one of the gray clad house staff, acquiring two cups of alcohol from them and bringing both glasses to her mistress, then with a deep bow she was off back to the darkness of the servant’s area. All told, the process was less than a minute.

  “That seemed unnecessary.” Ninia said quietly. Alinyaln caught her eye in the distance and Ninia gave a small salute, fist to her chest which she then disguised as scratching an itch. The Captain gave a curt nod in acknowledgement and resumed his talk to Syrin.

  “My lady does not like to talk to the servants of those she visits.” Linli explained curtly, as if she’d had this conversation before. “She thinks it’s rude.”

  “Rude to… Talk to the servants?” Ninia asked.

  “It could be seen as trying to take another’s property.”

  Property. A chill ran through Ninia’s back, one brought on by sudden disgust. “Is that what you are? Property?”

  “I—No, no I am employed by lady Ytil, I am not a slave. And she treats me well.”

  “And Phnan?”

  Linli turned her head to the side as if to look away, but she wasn’t looking in Ninia’s direction in the first place. “Less well. But I am not abused by him.”

  This poor girl, Ninia thought to herself. She claimed she was being paid by Ytil, and likely she was, but it was probably an abhorrently low amount for what she probably had to deal with. Was she one of those who was practically born into service? Not able to have much of a childhood, whose only purpose was to serve those above her?

  And how is that worse than what I’ve had to deal with in life? Ninia thought to herself. She shouldn’t feel pity for her, even if she could relate to her struggles.

  Ninia meant to respond, but then she saw Syrin in the corner of the room waving. They didn’t have a hand signal, not as Linli and her mistress had. Taking a deep breath, Ninia made her way out amongst the crowd. She was doing well until the collided with a house servant with a tray of empty glasses. “Ho!” The servant said, a tall gangly man with a clean face. He managed to not drop any of the glasses in a frantic display of grace, then glared daggers at Ninia.

  “So very sorry.” Ninia muttered.

  “Just… Be careful, alright?” He said, then nodded, regaining his composure and walked off.

  Ninia, blushing furiously at the glances her direction, ran to Syrin who was frowning at her in concern. “Are you alright?” Syrin asked her.

  “Yes, fine.” Ninia said with a gasp, then shook her head and—remembering her manners—bowed to Syrin. “Yes, lady Rebiska?”

  Syrin smiled at her. “Good lass.” She whispered. “Don’t spend too much time talking to that girl, it might look suspicious.”

  Ninia blushed again, resisting the urge to look back at the servant’s area. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “I know.” Syrin said, cutting Ninia off with a wave. “It’s alright. You just need to pay a little more attention, this is the third time I’ve waved you down.”

  “I didn’t notice you,” Ninia said, chagrined. “I need to tell you, I told her my name.”

  Syrin considered for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll make sure Lyn knows, so we don’t use your pseudonym in conversation. Luckily it hasn’t come up yet.”

  “Where is the Captain?”

  “Crinst is fetching us some drinks.” Syrin said looking around for him.

  “But—”

  “He doesn’t trust the house servants.” Syrin said with a shrug. “Well, that’s probably not true, he probably just needed a break.”

  Ninia nodded. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  Syrin smiled. “No, I just wanted to check on you. Go on back, it should be dinnertime soon.”

  Bowing, Ninia made her exit and stood back at her spot in the servant’s area where the chandelier’s light didn’t reach.

  “That seemed unnecessary.” Linli said as Ninia approached. She had a sense of humor, Ninia noted.

  “She just wanted to make sure I was paying attention.” Ninia explained. “I’m… new.”

  “I noticed.” Linli said with a smile. “It’s harder when you’re not raised for it.”

  Ninia knew she was turning red, but the darkness hid her face well enough. “It’s that obvious?"

  Linli nodded, keeping an eye out on the crowd looking for her mistress. “I won’t tell anyone, but after the incident with the house staff I think everyone knows now.”

  Ninia groaned, shaking her head but then made sure she could see Syrin in the corner of the room. Alinyaln approached her and handed her a glass and they drank a sip together.

  “Are… Are they good to you?” Linli asked, seeming unsure.

  Considering the question for a moment, Ninia looked over at Linli. “My masters?” She nodded fervently. “They’re wonderful to me.” And she found that it was the truth. Sure, her life upon the Mercy of Dradinoor wasn’t as glamorous as she could have hoped, but Alinyaln was a good man, and despite the amount of time that he had been dedicating to Syrin, he was still training her with blades, of which she found the knife works best for her. Though, Ninia could admit, there was a sort of rogueish quality to swinging around a full cutlass. And Syrin had been nothing but kind to her the moment she stepped aboard the ship, even after they were run out of Tusana.

  “How long have you been with them?” Linli asked, breaking Nina out of her thoughts.

  “Almost a year.” Ninia said, which was close enough to the truth. She was pretty sure she was a month away from having been with Alinyaln’s crew for an entire year. For some reason the thought of such a realistically unimportant event filled Ninia with a sense of excitement, though she contained it.

  “You don’t look like you’ve been a servant for a year.” Linli said, looking down at Ninia’s hands. “Your hands seem too rough still, and you don’t have the balance that one needs.”

  Ninia shot her a glare, but then explained the story that had been constructed for them all to follow; “My master is a fisherman in Arsin, since I accompany him out on the waters most of the time while he inspects the crew, I end up helping with rigging and pulling in the nets.”

  “Ugh,” Linli said, sneering. This was the first real emotion Ninia had seen from the girl. “I hate fish.”

  “I like just about anything I can eat.” Ninia said with a smile, noticing Syrin and Alinyaln in the distance talking to a couple wearing shades of blue. Then she paused, cocking her head to the side. “Except that cheese.” She said plainly. “That cheese is pretty awful, honestly.”

  “I like the bread cheese.” Linli said with a shrug. “It’s better than fish.”

  Ninia shrugged in return, the conversation dying. A minute of silence passed between them when Linli said, “That was mean, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t get to really talk to people much.”

  Ninia shook her head, “No, you’re fine, you hating fish doesn’t really matter to me.” She said. “Sometimes conversations just… end. And that’s alright.”

  “Oh.” Linli said, then grabbed a piece of bread cheese. “I understand.”

  And that’s how they stood for the next half hour, Ninia’s back beginning to hurt from the posture, until Syrin and Alinyaln both waved at her for her attention. Deftly, Ninia made her way over to her “masters” and bowed. “Lady Rebiska. Lord Crinst. How may I help you?”

  “It’s dinnertime, Ninia.” Syrin said with a nod. “Accompany us to the dining hall.” The woman added the proper tone of command to her voice.

  Ninia glanced back at Linli who gave her a small wave. “Of course, Lady Rebiska.” She said, bringing her attention back to Syrin and Alinyaln. Linli could wait, there was almost certainly going to be another chance to talk to her. The thought made her blush.